


Separated by the Traitors

by ChibiArthur



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil (Movieverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 01:55:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11933892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiArthur/pseuds/ChibiArthur
Summary: Roughly 6 months after the events in Neo Umbrella's underwater facility Chris Redfield gets a text from an unknown number that will make all the buried memories resurface.A NivanField fanfiction set after Resident Evil Vendetta, during Resident Evil 7 and after.





	Separated by the Traitors

A hand tightened around a military-issue cell phone, the reinforced glass screen creaking ominously. The owner of said hand let out an almost animalistic growl while baring his teeth. His brown eyes were blazing with helpless fury, focused on the message he just received. Or rather, a threat.

On the phone screen there was a photo of a completely naked young man, closed in a tank filled with a sea green liquid. His right arm looked like someone replaced it with an elongated and horribly disfigured blowfish and glued on it a few long nails for good measure. There were purplish veins coming out of the arm, branching off to the right side of his chest, neck and face, ending in the middle of his forehead. His chest on the side of the mutated arm had no skin, only raw muscle was visible, with a bone peeking out here and there. Right in the middle of his forehead was a third eye, open and alert. The man's human eyes were closed, his expression peaceful, despite everything.

Underneath the photo there was a short message. It read: "if you want him back you'll work for us". The phone's owner gripped the device even tighter upon reading the words one more time, the glass cracking in a few places under pressure. Only when the cracks appeared did the man relax his grip and put the phone down.

He started pacing around the room he was in, passing by the green couch, low coffee table, simple TV and the couch again. The faraway look in the man's eyes indicated that he was lost in thoughts. It seemed that whatever his mind decided on didn't sit well with him, for he punched the wall near him, leaving a dent in the shape of his fist. 

"GOD DAMN IT!" was the only thing he said before snatching the phone from the table angrily. His fingers flew over the keyboard, typing the response to the morbid text. When he was done, he punched in another number, hand shaking slightly when he was about to push the call button. He took a deep breath. Anxiously waiting for the call to connect, he resumed his nervous pacing around the room.

Once someone picked up the phone, the man uttered two simple sentences, his words full of conviction, before hanging up.

"Redfield here. I quit."


End file.
